


If I wake up tomorrow and have forgotten everything

by sildisenchanted



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Louis, Car Accidents, Fluff, M/M, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sildisenchanted/pseuds/sildisenchanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Amnesia AU, where Louis is in a car accident and can't remember anything when he wakes up. Before the accident, best friends Harry and Louis had gotten into a huge fight. Cue Louis' accident. Louis falls in love all over again. Things work out better the second time around.</p><p>OR<br/>Louis forgets about love and falls all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I wake up tomorrow and have forgotten everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stylinsonboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsonboi/gifts).



> This fic is part of the Bumstagram's Big AU Larry Fic exchange - prompt by Stylinsonboi: thank you very much for your ideas, I did make some minor changes in your original prompt but I hope you don't mind and enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta,  
> Ellie , whose help was fundamental (especially when I had to pick a title. You are a saviour!) and put up with my stupid doubts and non-sense rambling. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
>    
> PS: this fic is by @Sildisenchanted on ao3 - for some reason the author wasn't revealed. Come say hi! 
> 
> (This is a work of fiction. Never happened, etc etc)

****  
  


**I**

 

His feet were freezing. 

Which was the first thing he noticed when he awoke. 

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting away from the blinding light pouring in from a window to his left. The room he was in was unfamiliar, but it didn’t take him long to realise he was in an hospital bed, an IV in his arm and some monitor beeping by his side. The sound picked up just as realisation dawned on him: he couldn’t remember how he had ended up there, nor what he was doing before falling asleep, nor… anything at all, really. Panic flood through him as he tried to recall something,  _ anything, please _ . He couldn’t even think of his name, his mom, his face. The thought made him dizzy, even though he was still lying in bed. He tried to sit up, but the sharp stab of pain shot from his shoulder to the rest of his body. With a grunt, he lied back down, and stared up at the white ceiling through a thick layer of tears. 

He felt terrified. What had happened? Why was he injured? Who was he at all? 

As these questions haunted him, unconsciousness crept up to him and forced his eyes shut.

 

*

 

“Louis?” he whispered, unsure. He liked the way it sounded. “Louis.” He repeated louder. “It’s a nice name.” There was a nice ring to it, an edge of familiarity that reassured him. Everything had felt so new and foreign, since he had woken up for the first time three days ago. 

The woman sitting by his bed smiled a watery smile, a quiet “Thank you.” falling from her quivering lips. She had introduced herself as his mother. Jay, if he didn’t feel comfortable with calling her mom. He had avoided calling her all together. 

Truth was, he couldn’t recall a single thing about her. For all he knew, she could have been a total stranger or a murder - but she was sweet, had snuck in some delicious soup after he had complained about hospital food, and he was so tired and scared that he didn’t have it in him to fight someone who was taking care of him. 

She cried a lot. He could relate. Well, he wasn’t feeling sad per se, but there was this constant sense of confusion and fear lingering at the back of his mind. The doctors had told him that it would probably take up to a year to have his memory back, and that it wasn’t going to be easy, but he tried not to think about it too much.

He made to move up, but the stern glance Jay shot him made him change his mind.  _ Right, right. Broken leg, dislocated shoulder, concussion, no moving for a couple of weeks.  _ He sighed and closed his eyes, determined not let himself feel overwhelmed. 

He had zoned out for a couple of minutes when he heard some rustling in the distance, outside his room. 

“I’m really sorry, but you need to be a close family member to…”

“No,  _ I  _ am really sorry, but you don’t understand. I’m his best - well, I’m his friend, and it’s not like I’m gonna kidnap him or anything…”

Jay must have heard the conversation, too, because she stood up abruptly and walked to the source of the noise. “Let him in, please. Just ten minutes, yeah? I’m leaving anyway.” The noise died down, and Louis heard the nurse sigh a frustrated “Fine, fine.”

“I’m just gonna…” Jay said to whoever was waiting outside the door, before walking back to his bed. “I need to get going, Boo. Harry has come to visit. I’ll be back tomorrow, yeah?” Louis just nodded as she hugged him tight. She grabbed her coat and waved him goodbye, and then she was gone. 

Someone knocked on the door seconds later, and stumbled in, quickly straightening up again. “Oops.” A tall, lean boy was standing on the doorway, an insecure smile tugging at his lips. 

“Hi.” Louis croaked, taking him in. The boy -  _ Harry?  _ \- was hot. Not that Louis could recall many faces, or if he was supposed to like boys. But if his instinct was something to go by, then that boy was definitely his type. “Come in?”

“Lou.” The boy said, the nickname easy on his tongue. He ran his fingers through his messy chocolate curls, nervousness clear in all his gestures. “Are you alright?”

“Not too bad. Can’t complain.” Louis shrugged, because he couldn’t think of any other way apart from irony to cope with the situation. 

“I… uhm. I’m glad you’re okay.” He shuffled closer to the bed, his green eyes skimming over the room without meeting his gaze. 

“I’m Louis, by the way. I mean, apparently I am Louis?” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say to ease the tension in the room.

“Oh my god,” the boy answered, finally looking at him. It looked like he was about to burst into tears. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Louis felt the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. This hot, weird boy came to visit him at the hospital, and now was crying in front of him and he had no idea of what to do. Hell, he was crying because of him. “No? I’m really sorry?” he tried, shuffling uncomfortably under the covers. 

Harry walked over to the window. Louis could see a couple of tears spill from his eyes before he looked back at him. “Sorry, it’s just… A lot to take in.” He moved away from the window and towards his bed. 

“Yeah, I imagine.”

“Forgive me, I’ve been incredibly rude. I’m Harry.” He sticked his hand out, his rings sparkling under the lazy afternoon light. Louis found them weird, but didn’t comment on them. After all, he still hadn’t gotten the hang of it all. They shook hands, and Harry moved the chair closer to the bed before sitting down. He still looked uncomfortable, but his gaze had lost the nervous urgency that had been there before. 

“So, we’re, like, friends?” Louis wondered. 

“Partners in crime.” Harry smirked, but his smile dropped at Louis’s lack of reaction. “It was an inside joke between us?” Louis expression remained blank, no trace of acknowledgement showing. “You stole Judy’s purple crayon in third grade and when the teacher found out, you said it was a gift for me, since I had lost mine. We had never spoken before, and as the teacher was dragging you away to give Judy her crayon back, you told me “We are now partners in crime.””

“What a weird kid.” Louis laughed, but Harry didn’t follow him. He looked sad, and his voice carried a hint of nostalgia; Louis wondered how he would have felt if he had lost his childhood friend. “I bet you’ve always been the Art kid, with the hippy vibe and all.”

“Yeah, but way less flamboyant than this.” He gestured at his floral patterned shirt in a dismissive way. Louis found it cute. “Come on, you can ask me. I know you are dying to know.”

“What?” Louis asked, puzzled. The real world was giving him an headache. 

“What you were like! Are like. Were. I don’t know.” 

Louis thought about it for a few seconds. He was curious, of course he was. Was he funny? Did people like him? Did he like sports, or was he more into reading? He felt like the first one would be more likely, but then again, how could he know? He was practically a stranger to himself. But above the need to know about himself, he felt like this was the perfect opportunity to learn about others. Others such as Jay -  _ no, she’s Mom, not Jay _ he corrected himself. -, his siblings, who were often mentioned but whose name never stuck, his father, who he hadn’t met yet, and would probably never come.

“Tell me about them.” he decided at the end. “My family.”

 

*

 

“Hey!” Louis chirped the following morning, when Jay opened the door of his hospital room. She grinned at him, surprised by his unusual cheerfulness, and crossed the room to press a kiss to his cheek. Louis recognized her perfume from the last couple of days. 

“Feeling better?” She moved to the foot of the bed and started browsing through his medical notes.  _ Right,  _ Louis thought.  _ Harry said she’s a nurse.  _

“Yeah, apart from my shoulder. I must have fallen asleep in a weird position.” She hummed her assent while opening the window. “So, uhm. How are the girls?”

She turned towards him, her face beaming. “The girls?” She sounded surprised. “They’re okay. A bit worried, if anything. They miss you a lot.”

“Yeah?” He picked at the white worn sheets. “About them. They, uhm. They know about this amnesia thing, right?”

“I told them straight away, but I don’t think the twins got it. Anyway, they keep asking me when they’ll be able to see you. So, when you feel ready…”

“Sure. I just don’t want to hurt them because I don’t… remember them at all, really. Harry showed me pictures, but, y’know.” 

“We’re not in a rush, love, don’t worry.” She caressed his cheek, a tender look on her face. “When you’re ready, yeah?”

They sat in silence for a bit, the sound of the hospital faint and distant at the early hour. By the time Jay had to leave for work, Louis had fallen back to sleep, his head hanging to the left and his mouth half open. 

  
  


That was how Harry found him, a couple of hours later. He tiptoed into the room, careful not to wake Louis, and found his usual seat by the bed. At the soft sound of the chair scraping against the floor, Louis eyes shot open. He jolted on the bed, his eyes wide, fear written all over his features. “Fuck.” He murmured when he realised what had woken him up. He pressed the palms of his hands on his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Sorry, Lou. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Harry ran a hand through his curls, accidently knocking the pair of sunglasses balanced on his head to the floor. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I feel like all I do here is sleeping.” He yawned and shifted his weight to the left side, to give his shoulder a break. “I’m getting bored.”

“That’s  _ so _ you.” Harry stifled a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds. I’m surprised you lasted this long before complaining.” He rummaged in his messanger bag for a few seconds before lifting a silver Macbook above his head, a satisfied grin pasted on his lips. “Here it is.” He took out the charger before plugging it in the socket beside the bed, and placed the computer on the bed’s tray. “Want to watch something?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” Louis felt an usual wave of warmth spread through his chest. “Thank you.”

“Okay, so episode four of True Detective came out last night, but I-”

“Harry.” Louis interrupted him, placing a hand on his arm, extended over the bed to turn the computer on. “I don’t think a series is a good idea. I don’t, uhm, I don’t remember anything from before?”

Harry stared at him for a beat before nodding sharply. “Yeah, sure, I. Uhm. Movie? You get to pick.” He waited for the screen to light up before opening the Netflix page and typing the password for the hospital wifi. “God, this thing is so slow. It’s gonna take forever.”

Louis glanced at him leaning above his bed to press the keys and refresh the page. Harry’s shirt rode up of a couple of inches, revealing a sliver of smooth, tanned skin. He forced himself to look away. “Maybe it’s better if you choose, this time? I don’t… I don’t even remember what I like.”

“Sure. No Fast and Furious, I’m guessing.” He laughed at his own joke, before clicking on another title and settling back on his chair. “It’s a movie about car races?” He added as an answer to Louis confused expression. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Louis tried to sound annoyed, but the corner of his lips were curled upwards. Harry’s dimple popped out, his eyes shimmering with amusement. He liked Harry like this: smiling, carefree, with his hair a bit messed up and a white t-shirt too small for him. Louis couldn’t remember how old Harry exactly was, but to Louis, he felt older. When they were together, Louis didn’t feel the confusion or fear he always felt when he was alone. Harry grounded him, in a weird way, and stopped his mind from going in places that felt dark, scary. 

The movie started playing on the screen, some romantic comedy Louis didn’t give a shit about. Harry was watching with wide eyes, though, so he figured he had to at least pretend to like it. Halfway through, after the protagonist third break up, Louis cleared his throat. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked, crossing his legs at his ankles, his beaten up boots resting on another chair he had dragged in from the waiting room. 

“This is probably awkward, but, uhm, whatever. The chances I’ll have forgotten this conversation by tomorrow are fairly high.” He chuckled. “Am I - I mean. Was I… Uhm. I think I’m gay.”

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, a slightly bewildered expression on his face. It took him ten seconds to start laughing, his eyes filling up with tears. 

“What the fuck?” Louis asked, confused, because that was definitely not what he was expecting. Anger: maybe; disgust: not very likely; confusion: yes. Laughter: definitely not. He felt exposed, all of a sudden. Not in the way he had felt when the nurses had stripped him naked to wash him as best as they could, but in more personal way. There was something heavy settling at the pit of his stomach when Harry spoke again.

“Lou, I know.” He reached out for his hand and squeezed it gently, careful not to move the IV. “I know, and I am too.”

“What?” He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, too. He didn’t know why, but there was something extremely anticlimactic in the way Harry had reacted. 

“I am gay, too.” Harry had stopped laughing and was looking at him with a worried expression. “Well, actually, bisexual.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He sat straighter, his fingers fiddling with his rings and a frown schooling his features. “Sorry. I’ve been an asshole. Not the best reaction to a coming out, right?” He looked up at Louis apologetically. “I mean it, Lou. I’m really sorry.”

“Okay.” Louis answered. He didn’t know why he felt so weird about it, but the confession felt important, heavy. 

“There’s stuff we need to…” Harry swallowed. “There’s a lot we need to talk about. But, firstly, thank you for telling me. I already knew, but thank you for telling me again. You should be proud.”

“What about the other stuff?” Louis was eager to change topic. 

“Not today.” Harry said, and focused back to the movie. 

They didn’t speak for a while, until Harry’s phone started ringing loudly and he stepped outside to take the call. When he came back in, he grabbed the light jacket from his chair and announced he had to leave.

“You can keep the laptop and watch some Netflix.” He leant over to hug him, his hold as tight and careful as always. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Please use an anonymous tab if you watch porn.” His tone was light, and as he backtracked towards the door, he threw a wink his way.

Louis groaned his dissent, before pressing a few keys on the computer to stop the movie. 

_ Right. Congrats, Louis. You’ve messed everything up _ . Okay, okay. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic. Could someone blame him, though? They hadn’t exchanged a single word for half an hour, and even if  _ technically  _ he and Harry had only known each other for a week, they hadn’t been able to shut up for longer than ten minutes. Harry had seemed fine with him being gay, but he had gone unusually quiet after the mention of other stuff, which was what made Louis feel uneasy. 

Over the course of the last week, many people had come to visit him. Not everyone had been allowed inside his room, but he had met another two of his friends: Niall, the loud, irish guy who had managed to make him smile even though his ribs had been hurting like hell, and Zayn, a breathtaking quiet boy who hadn’t said much but who had felt very close, for some reasons he could not understand.

He reached for his phone on the bedside table. He thumbed in the password (2800: the only thing he could remember from before. He couldn’t remember why it was his password: he had just known which numbers to press from memory.) and opened WhatsApp. He typed in a text, pressed “send”, locked it and put it back in its place.

 

Zayn had replied to Harry’s text in five minutes, a simple “ _ be there in 10 _ ”, and was now sitting by the window, lazily scanning the room. 

Zayn was an observer. He didn't talk much, and his stare wasn't as open and accepting as Harry’s, but Louis felt a different, maybe even deeper connection with him. With Harry, everything felt stable but delicate; with Zayn, it was all about instinct and unfiltered emotions. Louis crossed his arms over his chest, huffing. “What do you think about Harry?” He tried, his voice higher than usual. 

“What about him?” Zayn’s eyes were now pierced on him, inquisitive. 

“It's… Never mind.”

“Did he do something?” 

“Absolutely not?”

“I'm serious. It's annoying seeing you so fond of him."   
"Why? He's been nothing but nice to me. And mom said we've been attached at the hip since we were nine." Well, that wasn't turning out as expected. He was supposed to complain about Harry’s confusing behaviour to Zayn, not defend him.

"Just... Never mind."   
"Z. I need to know if I can't trust people in my life, right? Now more than ever."   
"Okay, I guess. But i haven't said anything if he asks."   
"Sure, whatever."   
"Right before the accident you two had a huge fight. You called me crying and asked me where I was. I told you I was at Niall's and you hung up saying you'd be there soon…”

Louis swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't remember anything about the accident, but he still felt a weird wave of uneasiness at the thought of it. 

“What was the fight about?” Louis asked, unable to sound unbothered. His eyes felt watery and all he wanted was for his anaesthetic to kick in. He had asked his favourite nurse for a stronger dose, blaming the pain in his leg. 

“I don't know. And it's not my place to tell.” He looked like someone in a fashion magazine shoot, with the light pouring in from the window to his left and the sharp cut of his cheekbones casting a definite shadow over his cheeks.

“Okay. Thanks.” The sentence sounded strained, but he meant it.

They sat in silence for a while, before a nurse came in and threatened to call the police if the visitor didn't leave soon. They exchanged a last, meaningful look, and said goodbye.

 

The following morning, the doctor confirmed Louis was feeling good enough to be moved to another room, and by ten o'clock he was lying in a new bed, another boy snoring softly on a bed to his right.

He was confused. He knew what had happened, but his sense of direction was completely off balance. The layout of the room was different from the one’s he had slept in before - first off, it was meant for two people instead of one; secondly, the equipment was reduced to a couple of monitors; lastly, there was a TV on the wall opposite to the beds. He felt stripped of that tiny bit of confidence he had gained in the previous few days. He had read a bit about post-traumatic amnesia, and the symptoms included feeling disoriented, agitated, confused.  _ Check, check, check _ . 

He was halfway through the first episode of True Detective when he heard someone coughing by his side. 

“Hey.” The other boy said, smiling in his direction. He was missing a tooth and had a nasty cut running from his eyebrow to his upper lip. 

“Hi. Did I wake you up? Sorry, I thought these blocked the sound out.” He lifted the headphones his mother had left along with his phone. 

“Nah, I’ve had enough sleep. That's all I've been doing since I got here.”

“Same. Even sleeping gets boring after a while.”

“Indeed. I'm Liam, by the way.”

“Louis. Nice to meet you.” It was weird. Liam was the first person he met that knew as much as Louis about him, which is to say nothing. His mother, Harry, Zayn, Niall - they all had memories of him he didn't know about and knew him like the back of their hands, and he felt at a disadvantage more often than he would have liked to admit. There was some sort of unbalance in those relationships that made him feel vulnerable. 

“What brings you here, if I can ask?” Liam asked, pushing himself up to a seating position. 

“Car accident. Broken bits here and there, wiped out my memory. Regular stuff.” He made an abortive gesture with his hand, trying to sound nonplussed. “What about you?”

“Wow mate, that’s… I’m sorry. Fainted while crossing the street, some asshole on a motorbike ran over me. So you, like, don’t remember anything?”

“Not a thing. Well, not entirely true. Mitochondria? Powerhouse of the cell. Work done? Force times distance. My family? Nothing. Childhood? Nothing.”

“Pretty sure you smashed those GSCE though.” Liam laughed, wincing slightly. Louis could relate: his ribs hadn’t given him a break since the accident, and the mere thought of sitting up by himself made him nauseous. Louis smiled in acknowledgement, because Harry had taught him that it was the best way out when he didn’t get a joke and didn’t want to ask for an explanation. The thought of Harry stirred something uncomfortable in his chest, his conversation with Zayn coming back to mind. “I’m sure you’ll like it out there. It’s beautiful.” Louis hoped so. The longer he spent in the hospital, the more he felt nervous about leaving, Those white, sterile walls were all he knew, after all.

He managed to keep up an easy chatter with Liam, who explained him some stuff about his uni course and his friends deciding to give up festival tickets because he couldn’t go with them. 

It was nice to have someone to talk to besides those forty minutes when visitors were allowed. Liam knew when to shut up, which was a plus, and Louis knew he could ask him questions without being judged. 

Before he noticed, some nurse he had never seen brought in their lunch, which they ate with matching disgusted expression. 

“I’d kill for some pizza.” Liam whined once he was done with his rice. 

“Mate, you  _ cannot _ complain. I’ve never tried pizza, remember? So I’m stuck here thinking this is what all the food taste like. Umpf. At least you can dream about it.”

Soon enough Liam was taken somewhere else to do some rehabilitation for his knee, and that was when Harry stumbled in, looking somehow disheveled and stressed for the first time since Louis had woken up. 

“Thank God! I thought you had escaped from the window and w-...”

“Harry, really?!” Louis interrupted him, an ironic bite clear in his voice. He nodded towards the cast on his left leg, then lifted his gaze to his bent, useless arm. 

“Yeah, sorry. Sometimes I forget about it.” Louis could see some irony in the fact that Harry could forget about the fact that he had forgotten everything. But there were more important issues that needed to be addressed and he didn’t know how long they had before Liam was so come back. 

“Harry, we need to talk about something.” 

Harry’s face fell, his eyes worriedly avoiding Louis’s. “Yeah? What about?”

“The fight.” Louis let the silence settle between them before speaking up again. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Harry took off his jeans jacket. “Do you remember it?”

“No. I just read the texts I sent Zayn before leaving your apartment. Big fight, apparently.” He was glad he had thought of that excuse before falling asleep the previous night. He didn’t want to get Zayn in trouble, but he couldn’t lie about him starting to remember stuff when he clearly wasn’t.

“Oh.” He placed his jacket on the back of the chair, his fingers clutching it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” Louis huffed, annoyed. Harry had been enough of a coward already - he should have told Louis about it a long time ago.

“I… I don’t know if I should tell you right now…”

“Well, I really think you should, since it may be the reason why I’m here now.”

“What? You’re gonna blame it on me now?”

“I feel like I should at least know what we are talking about.” Louis nearly shouted.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shut. “Okay.” He straightened up, pushed a stray curl behind his ear. “Okay, sorry. That was unfair of me.”

Louis wished he could stand up and pace the room. His outburst felt so childish compared to Harry’s apology, but he didn’t like feeling vulnerable, not even with Harry. He nodded towards him, prodding him to continue.

“So… I had a boyfriend. Well, sort of. Anyway. You… You didn’t like him. Couldn’t stand him, actually. And it was getting in the way of our friendship, right? We could never hang out anymore, so I brought it up on the day of the accident, and it escalated from there.”

“Was I that kind of friend? The kind to get jealous over a boyfriend?”

"To be fair, he was kind of a dickhead too." Harry laughed bitterly.

"I don't get it. Was it that bad? I mean, of my texts are something to go by, I was really upset."

"It's... It's because there's more." Harry adjusted his rings. "You told me I should leave him and find someone who really cares about me, so I told you that there was no one out there apart from Tom that could love me from who I was. And you just. You said you loved me."

"Oh." Louis couldn't think of anything else to say. Harry was lovely, cute, smart, funny. Louis could see himself fall for him. But he got something uncomfortable at the pit of his stomach at the thought of his old self loving Harry, too. Maybe Old Louis had wasted his chance, and New Louis had to live with the burden of this chance someone else had ruined for him.

"Yeah. You... You tried to kiss me. And I... Pushed you." Harry was blushing, his head bent and two locks of hair covering his eyes. "I said I couldn't. I was still with Tom, after all, but you didn't let me explain and just run away. So you probably got the whole picture wrong."

"What's the picture like, then?"

"I... I broke up with him." He dared to look up for a second.

"I don't know if I still love you." Louis rushed out, because he was scared Harry was gonna say something stupid like "I left him so we can be together and get married." Which, no. 

Apparently, that was not what Harry meant at all, because he laughed at his words and held his gaze for a little longer. "Louis, don't worry about it. I broke up with him because he was a manipulative dick."

"Okay. That was a bit presumptuous of me, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, just a bit.” His smile was open and wide, the way it had been with Louis before this whole conversation.

“But if you don't like me, I didn't get the picture wrong. I had just been turned down…”

“Louis, Lou. I… I like you. A lot.” He was blushing a deep shade of scarlet, and his voice broke towards the end of the sentence. “But I've been cheated on before, and I didn't want to do the same to him. I'm not that kind of person.”

“Wait. You like me?” The moment felt important and fragile, so Louis leaned forward to get a better look at Harry’s face. “I’m… I’m not the Louis you knew before. I’m just scared that you’re gonna be disappointed once you realise I’m not who you thought I was.” Louis felt like it was important to say the truth, right then. It felt like their relationship had to be built on something as strong as honesty.

“Lou, Lou. I’ve thought about it. I like this Louis as much as I liked the old one. Maybe even more. I like your soft side, too.” He ruffled his fringe, smiling softly. “You used to never let it show, before.”

Louis didn’t know much about the world. He didn’t know where he lived, or who his favourite singer was, or how to cook any meal at all. He couldn’t remember his last birthday, or the ones before that, or any day of school. 

But with Harry everything felt right, easy, effortless. Whatever it was between them, he never felt the need to hide or run. Even when he was mad, all he wanted to do was to reach out, hear an apology and be over with it.

“Harry. I’m very confused, right now. But I like it when you’re here, and when you talk to me, and when we watch crappy movies together. So, yeah.”

“Can I hug you?” Harry asked, and in a second he was all around him, careful not to move his hurt arm, but warm and steady. Louis smiled in the embrace, breathing in Harry’s smell and trying to memorize it for those times when he felt scared and lonely. 

“We don’t have to figure it out right now, love. But the fact that you don’t hate me it’s a good start.” He took a step back and flashed him another smile.

They sat in silence for a while, a quiet calm settling between them. Louis let himself bask in that peace. Apart from Harry, there were doctors appointments, uni courses to figure out, a job he couldn’t remember in the slightest, a family he didn’t want to let down. With Harry, though, he could just enjoy the feeling of being there, right then, alive and mostly well. 

The door opened creaking, Liam limping in on his crutches. “Hey!” He greeted Harry, fumbling with the crutches to shake his hand. “I’m Liam.”

“Nice to meet you, mate. Harry.” Louis could tell Harry was a charmer. His green eyes were sparkling with interest, his dimple showing at right the corner of an amused smile.

Liam and Harry made small talk until Harry’s phone rang and he realised he was running late.

He grabbed his coat while still on the phone, and placed a feathery kiss on Louis cheek. He left the room in a whirlwind, leaving a blushing Louis and a smirking Liam behind. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**II**

 

Louis squinted his eyes against the unexpected sunlight of the parking lot. He picked up his rucksack from the pavement and took a few, slow steps towards Jay’s car. That was it: his last day as an hospitalised patient had finally come, and he couldn’t wait to leave that place for good. Liam had left three days before him and his new roommate was a plain pain in the ass. He was looking forward to spending some time home, whatever that meant. 

His memory was slowly coming back. It had started with Liam telling him about his favourite football team, and suddenly Louis had remembered the black and white tiles of a filthy locker room, his red and white jersey, the goal he had scored on that particularly rainy day. He had started crying. He finally had something from his past to hold on to: it didn’t matter that it had the consistency of a faraway dream. For now, that evanescent recollection was enough. 

There had been more, over the course of the last few days. His mother cutting his hair in the kitchen on a hot sunny day. Some random guy kissing him at a party. Lottie crying in the bathroom after a nasty breakup. Slowly but steadily, all these new information were filing in, adding new shades to his personality and new depths to his character. He didn’t know if he liked it. He had liked the perspective of being a completely new being, the opportunity he had been given to start from scratch. But he felt a sense of responsibility towards everyone who loved him: all those people (his mom, his sisters, his friends, maybe even Harry) who wanted him back and were doing their best to help im with his amnesia. 

The house was silent when Jay opened the door: everyone was at school, which left Louis with the house to himself. He remembered the living room (a faded polaroid from a Christmas morning), the kitchen, but nothing about his room. His mother had to help him up the stairs and they were both out of breath once they made it to upper floor. 

“First one on the right.” Jay told him, before leaving him alone and retreating downstairs. He moved a few tentative steps towards his door, covered in stickers and football players’ posters. The room was tiny, a twin sized bed cramped under the window and a messy cupboard left half-open to his right. He couldn’t remember anything. Nothing about his bed, the blue duvet hanging a bit asymmetrically to the left; nothing about his desk, cluttered with uni books and other junk he didn’t even want to look at; nothing about the magazine covers half-hidden under his bed. 

The walls were lined with pictures. Louis limped towards them, eager to take a closer look at his own life. It looked like the pictures had been arranged in chronological order.

He and Zayn as toddlers, matching pajamas and cake-smeared smiles.

Jay surrounded by all her children on the couch. 

Niall high-fiving him on the football field. 

A girl with a bob cut standing proudly beside him, their smiles missing a couple of teeth. 

And finally Harry, much younger and much shorter, covered in flour while Louis smiled mischievously with his tongue out. 

After that one, Harry was in almost every picture. 

The two of them in their Halloween costumes, riding their bicycles, playing football with Niall and Zayn, in their school uniforms. A couple of grainy selfies: one at a concert, the other on a beach.

Louis swallowed the lump in his throat. He sat on the bed and hid his face behind his hands. He felt tired and overwhelmed. There was only a thing that could make him feel better. He unlocked his phone and thumbed a message.

 

“What the hell are these?” Louis asked, picking up the chopsticks with his left hand. 

“Chopsticks. Here, let me show you.” Harry gracefully picked up a piece of sushi with them and brought it to his mouth. “Yum.”

Louis sighed, frustrated.”First: can’t use my good hand because my shoulder’s been hurting like hell all day. Second: why in the world did you think that this would be a good place for me to start with normal food? I can’t even eat it, Harry.”

“Uhm. Well, I didn’t give it this much thinking. Just felt like having sushi, to be honest.” He smiled, warmth radiating off his face. He picked up another piece of uramaki and brought it to Louis’s lips. He tried to suppress a smile, but let Harry feed him nonetheless.

“Fuckkk.” He moaned, once he had swallowed. “This tastes heavenly.”

“See? Told you.” 

Refusing to be fed for the whole meal, Louis managed to eat the remaining of the sushi by himself, a comfortable silence settling over them. “Now I get why you and Liam are so hyped about food. Not as bad as the thing  they gave us in the hospital, must admit.”

“Have you heard from him?” Harry asked, leaning back with his arms stretched above his head. 

“Yeah, texted me this morning. He wants to meet up some time soon.” 

“Great. He looks fun.” Louis nodded, smiling. Liam had told him he had never been the popular one in high school, but that was doing better now that he was in uni. Louis didn’t know much about friendships, but he liked Liam and the way he had always taken time to explain him stuff.

“How are you doing, Lou?” 

“I’m… It’s really weird. Being home and all isn’t making it easier. My sisters, they expect me to remember all this stuff... and I don’t want to disappoint them, but that’s just not how it works.” He picked at his napkin, his hands lightly shaking. “I mean, sometimes I feel like the person they want to talk to is not me, but my old self, and even if I’m starting to have my memory back, this doesn’t mean I’m going back to being who I was before the accident.”

Harry seemed to think about it for a while. “Well, I guess you could have a point there. Have you tried talking about it?”

“I’ve mentioned it to mom, but I don’t think she gets it. I know they aren’t doing it on purpose, but it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

“Did I give you this impression, too?” Harry asked, biting his bottom lip in worry. His attention was completely focused on Louis, and he squirmed under his gaze.

“No. With you it’s… different.”

“I think… I think that’s because I see you like an independent identity. Like you could’ve existed even without your memories before the accident.”

“The thing is, I’m getting all these memories back, and most of the time I don’t know what to do with them. It feels like I’m watching some sort of bad TV series in which I’m the main character.”

“Lou, I think you should talk to your mom again about the fact that their expectations are hurting you. I’m pretty sure they mean no harm...”

“Yeah, they’re lovely. I am pretty lucky to have them.” 

“... and you should start creating yourself, if you don’t recognize yourself in the person you used to be.”

Louis lowered his gaze to Harry’s hands. He was playing with his rings, which meant he was nervous. Louis reached out and placed his hand above Harry’s. 

They shared a private smile.

It felt important and exciting, just like a new beginning. 

Louis was getting quite used to those.

 

*

 

Louis read somewhere online that you never become an adult, you just start encountering things twice, which was something that didn’t happen very often to him. Still, he tried to take his life back.

He started from his clothes. It took him and Zayn a whole afternoon of rummaging around thrift shops to buy enough stuff he liked. No more stripes and  _ definitely  _ fewer red jeans, thank you very much. 

His music was alright. Music could stay.

Uni had been the hardest thing to get his mind around. After a long, exhausting talk with his mom, a couple of late night calls with Harry, two drunken conversations with Liam, he decided to take a year off from Law to figure out if he still wanted to do it. 

Those were times of confusion, major changes, insecurities, fear - of disappointing people, of taking a wrong turn, of betraying his old self. 

Harry, though. Harry never changed. 

He was loving, and present, and  _ there _ , in this non-judgemental way Louis was growing to love. 

When the money from the insurance refund came in, he found himself with  _ a lot _ of money he didn’t know how to use. He gave two thirds to his mom, who tried to refuse, but he knew that even though money wasn’t as tight as it used to be, the heating needed to be fixed before winter arrived and the girls needed new school uniforms. So he had insisted until she had given in with a grateful smile. 

There was something else he needed to do, something that had been on the back of his mind for the whole two months he had been out of hospital. Which was the reason he was sitting at his computer, now, four tabs open on TripAdvisor’s reviews of fancy restaurants. The sound of his ringtone startled him out of his trance. The screen read Liam. Louis picked up without looking away from the computer. 

_ Quiet atmosphere? No thank you. They’d kick us out before the first course.  _ He closed the tab. Like he and Harry could keep it down. “‘Lo.”

“Hey Louis. What’s up?” Louis scrunched his nose. Something was off, he could tell.

“Nothing much, really.” His need for advices on this restaurant thing could wait: Liam sounded too distressed. “You okay?”

“Uhm, uhm, yeah. Just - have you seen Zayn?” 

_ So this is it, _ Louis smiled. Liam and Zayn had been waltzing around each other since their first meeting in their impersonal and sterile hospital room. Louis had noticed since the very beginning that Zayn’s focused had shifted away from him and to Liam and the way Liam’s gap-toothed smile broadened every time he entered the room. Zayn wasn’t the only observer, after all. “No, not since we left the pub. Thought he left with you?”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, he did. I meant, uhm, this morning.” The two of them leaving together had become an habit since their first outing all together - their apartments were in the same neighbourhood, and Liam still couldn’t drive because of the concussion. 

“Li, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, don’t worry about it. Can you please tell him to call me back, if you see him?” Louis agreed, because he knew better than forcing Liam into telling him things. In the hospital, he had noticed that there were things Liam never addressed on purpose - school, friends from home, his hometown - and Louis didn’t want to get into any topic that would make him uncomfortable. Liam thanked him, the nervousness from before replaced by a resigned sadness.

As soon as they hung up, Louis called Zayn, who picked up on the second ring.

“Liam kissed me.”

“Wait, what?!” Louis exclaimed, incredulous. 

“Liam kissed me, last night.” The line was silent for a while, after that. 

“Care to elaborate?” Louis enquired, pushing his chair away from the desk and propping his feet on it.

“He invited me in for a beer, after I drove him back to his place. We started watching Batman and then - BOOM, he kisses me, like, out of the blue.” Zayn sounded as distressed as Liam, while Louis was as confused as ever. It was the first time he had to figure out what to do in a situation like that without Harry or Zayn’s advices. 

“I thought you liked him.”

“I know, well. Yeah. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

Zayn was an observer, right, and maybe a bit of a coward, too. Louis just needed to tell him without insulting him or being rude, which, uhm. Easier said than done.

 

*

 

Only when Harry answered “ _ sure see you later xx _ ” to his question to hang out in an hour, Louis realised that the fact that there was already a reservation under  _ Tomlinson _ at the Gusto could come off as a bit presumptuous of him. But,  _ come on _ . Louis had eyes. He could see the way Harry got always so touchy around him or how he got protective whenever Louis showed even the slightest sign of discomfort. In those occasions, Harry always dropped a couple of sentences to show him that he was there as well, which always managed to make Louis’s heart flutter.

So. 

Louis knew that Harry felt something for him from the hospital. Those words, though, didn’t feel quite enough. When Harry had told him that he liked him, two months back, it had felt like this groundbreaking revelation. Now, though, Louis knew that Harry’s confession wasn’t quite enough. He hadn't know him well enough yet - he had known nothing but a watered down version of Louis. That confession had come too early - before Louis finding out he disliked Harry’s indie music, before Louis vomiting in Harry’s backseat after having too much sushi, before Louis calling him at ungodly hours because his panic was verging on too much -, so, in Louis’s mind, it didn’t count. 

As for him, his crush on Harry had reached embarrassing proportions. Embarrassing enough to book the fanciest place in town and to ask his mom to iron a shirt for him. 

It was just - well, Harry. 

Harry and his cute laugh. Harry and his loud laugh, when he couldn’t hold back the tears or the embarrassing snorts.

Harry and the way he liked his pizza - “double cheese and Parma ham”. Harry and how that didn’t stop him from stealing a slice off everyone’s plates. 

Harry and the way he always cried at video of dogs. Harry and his love for puppies, kittens, babies. 

Harry. 

Unlike any other word, no matter how many times he repeated it in his head: it never lost its meaning.  _ Harry. Harry. Harry. _ Then again, Harry wasn’t like anything else in his life.

Even with his memory coming back, Harry considered New Louis valid and worth listening to. New Louis valued that, especially when all of his other friends would get frustrated from time to time and he would still get self-conscious about not being who they wanted.

Harry was coming over in an hour, so he didn't have much time to think about it. He took a brief shower and changed into some loose joggers and a plain white t-shirt. He tried to watch some TV with the twins but the bell rang before he could catch up with what was happening in whatever movie they were watching.

“Hey.” Harry greeted him on the door, a bit out of breath. “Looking extra cute today.” He actually smiled, the bastard, leaving Louis with his heart rabbiting in his chest to say hi to the girls. Louis forced himself to take a deep breath and went to join them. After twenty minutes of trashy TV and some G-rated banter, Louis threw Harry a meaningful look. They both knew who had the most power over the twins. 

“Lou, don’t you need my help with the… mmh… the…”

“The computer virus! Yes! I almost forgot!” He cut in smoothly, because they both knew what a terrible liar Harry was, too. 

The girls mumbled in protest, but were quickly distracted by some petty fight on the screen. They raced upstairs - well, tried to. Louis still limped and had some troubles with stairs. 

Harry let himself in first and threw himself on the bed, face first, letting out a childish laugh. “So. What is it, then?”

Louis sat on the chair, jittery. He couldn't do this. There was no way he could ask Harry, forget about the restaurant reservation and the ironed shirt and -

“Lou?”

“ _ Doyouwanttogooutwithme _ ?” It came out rushed, almost incomprehensible, but Harry smiled nonetheless, knowing. Louis registered how gorgeous he looked, his tattoos peeking out of his left sleeve, rolled just above his elbow, the ink standing out against his pale skin. 

“I would love to.” Easy as that. No hesitation, no uncertainty. 

Louis smiled at that. He felt a sense of lightness filling his chest, bubbling up his throat in a relieved laugh. Harry joined him, his cheeks reddened, and silently gestured for him to join him on the bed. Louis lied down beside Harry, on his side. Their bodies were facing each other, but not touching. 

Louis had never felt so close to anyone, ever. 

“I thought you'd never ask.” Harry said after a while, well past the moment when holding eye contact was supposed to become awkward. Hadn't happened to them, yet. But Louis didn't know how much of the rules he set for other people applied when it came to Harry. 

“You could have asked, too, y’know.” He moved a stray lock back, fixing his own fringe. 

“Nah.” He lifted his hand to fix Louis t-shirt were it had ridden up a bit, pulling it down to cover the slide of skin that was showing. “This was your call to make. We’ll take it slow, yeah? And go at your pace.”

“Our pace.” Louis corrected him, because he hated feeling babied. He knew Harry was just being kind and he did recognise the fact that the post-traumatic amnesia had fucked up with his mind. Still, he felt like they had to be on the same page all the way through this for their relationship to work.

Harry nodded, resting his hand on Louis hip. “Where are you taking me, then? When?”

“On Friday. And of course I’m not telling you! Just wear a shirt. And no ripped jeans. I mean, like, wear proper trousers.” 

“Uuhhh.” Harry whistled. “Proper fancy, yeah? Don’t know if I deserve it, honestly.”

“Of course you do.” Louis regretted saying it the moment it came out. Was he being too forward? He was out of his depth, something that had never happened with Harry before. 

Harry squeezed his hip. His eyes were sparkling with their usual intensity. “You know there’s no need to freak out over this, right?” 

“I know.” Louis lied. Well, technically, he knew. Not that made it feel any better, though. 

Harry had been by his side all along and Louis knew that if there was anyone he could trust, it was him. He really didn’t want to fuck up. 

Harry scooted a bit closer, their knees touching and sending shivers up Louis’ legs. “You don’t have to feel uncomfortable because of this, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t want to mess things up.”

“Well, let’s start with the date, and then see how it goes.” Louis nodded, and Harry drawed him even closer. As soon as Harry’s smell become more intense, he was flooded with a sense of calm and tranquility. It was something he couldn’t explain, something just meant to be. It felt like safety. Louis liked the feeling. 

They lied there in silence for a while, their bodies illuminated by the dying light of the late afternoon. Louis’s phone rang once, twice, three times with the sound of an incoming message. 

“You should probably check that.” Louis groaned, too lazy to stand up, and blindly reached on his night table. Three Snapchat notifications from Liam. He rolled on his back, angling the screen so that Harry could see too. The pictures loaded, and Harry squeaked when he saw Liam’s smiling face being kissed by a  _ definitely _ shirtless Zayn. 

“Well, Louis Tomlinson, looks like you owe me an explanation.”

 

*

 

Louis laughed, throwing his head back. “ _ Hen _ -ry, H, got it?”

“But that’s not my nameeee.” Harry wailed, raising his glass to take another sip of wine. 

“That’s what you get from pitying  _ little vulnerable chicks _ .”

“Lou.” Harry stage whispered, his eyes open wide and sparkling with intent. “They make them live in tiny cages. It’s  _ horrible _ .”

Louis felt a wave of warm fondness washing over him. “It’s okay, Haz. You can order something else. Pasta, maybe?”

Harry nodded amusedly, focusing back on the menu. “I’d reckon pasta al pesto could do.”

The restaurant had this fancy, expensive vibe that had made Louis a bit uncomfortable when they had gotten there, but Harry had approached the waiter with a self-confident grin and announced: “We have a reservation for two. Tomlinson.” Louis heart had skipped a few beats - that single sentence had been enough to show him what it would have been like to be a couple. Normal. Warm. Reassuring. 

Louis had ordered the most expensive wine on the list and Harry had pretended to be an expert when the waitress had poured him some to get a tasting. “Notes of mahogany and leather. I like it.”

The night had been a non-stop exchange of jokes, stories, longing looks. 

Harry had this magnetic pull that made every other problem in Louis’s life look small and insignificant. He could not focus on anything else than Harry’s slow drawl, soft smile, bright eyes. 

“Honestly, Lou, how can you afford this? Those prices were ridiculous.”

“Insurance money came in. I’m a rich man now.” 

“Wow. This is great. I get a hot  _ and  _ rich boy. Can’t believe my luck.” Louis’s response consisted in him stabbing Harry’s hand with a fork, the younger boy emitting a loud yelp. 

The food was lovely - God, Louis hadn’t thought food could taste  _ that _ good. By the time they shared a dessert -  _ yes,  _ they were  _ that _ couple - Louis was feeling a bit tipsy, so they decided to go for a walk to sober up a bit. Harry kissed him on the cheek when he paid, tinging his cheeks crimson, and laced their fingers together as they walked out. 

“H, did I use to smoke?” Louis asked, tightening his grip on Harry’s fingers. Two people were bundled in their coats, breathing out clouds of smoke against the cold. 

Harry seemed to ponder the best answer, buttoning up his coat one-handedly. “Yeah, especially when you were nervous.”

“Because. I’ve seen those guys smoking and realised I really crave a cig? So. Uhm.”

He was met with a smile, smug. “Are you saying you’re nervous, Lou?” Louis fixed his fringe, his eyes low on the pavement. “Louis. Come on. Tell me. You nervous?”

“Maybe. A bit. Yeah.” He could feel himself blush under the orange light of the lamppost. “Promise not to laugh?”

“Cross my heart.”

“I… I read a guide. Online. On what to do on a date.” He laughed, self-deprecatingly. “But I forgot? You know how amnesia weakened my short-term memory as well, and all that.” When he looked up, Harry’s smile went from ear to ear. 

“You’re telling me you read a WikiHow list for tonight?”

“Yeah? Hey! You promised!”

“Sorry, babe. You’re too cute.” Harry moved closer, their shoulders brushing together as they walked away from the  _ Gusto _ and into the night. 

 

Louis couldn't remember what the list said about kissing on the first date, but when Harry closed the distance between their lips to wish him goodnight on his front porch, he deepened the kiss and tried to pull him even closer. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
